“There,” he said. “It would be horrible to rouse up the colonel on account of a cock-and-bull story.”
“But it would be worse for him to be warned too late. There it is again; hark!” whispered Lennox, stretching out a hand in the direction farthest from the village.
“Can’t hear anything,” said the captain.
“I can,” growled Dickenson softly.
“Yes, so can I now. It’s a wagon whose drivers have missed their way, I should say. But we’ll see.”
“Or feel,” grunted the captain. “It’s as black as ink.—Here, Lennox, take a sergeant’s guard and go forward softly to see if you can make anything out. I don’t know, though; it may be as you say, and if it is—”
“We ought to bring in that gun,” whispered Lennox.
“Yes, at all hazards. I don’t know, though. There, take five-and-twenty of the lads, and act as seems best. If you can do it easily, force the drivers to come on, but don’t run risks. If the Boers are in strength fall back at once. You understand?”
“Quite,” said Lennox softly.
“Let me go with him, Roby?”